


Found

by L_autore_Passionale



Series: Batfam Week 2020 [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: And by hurt/comfort I mean hurt/almost comfort, Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Good Father, Gen, His children are his world, Hurt/Comfort, Just not my usual three years of it, Kidnapping, No editing we die like mne, just kidding, lots of editing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23130223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_autore_Passionale/pseuds/L_autore_Passionale
Summary: Damian was the first to be taken. Tim was next. Then Jason. Dick.Bruce received a video within the first 24 hours. Harm had already been done to his sons, clear in the developing bruises and bloody faces. It wasn’t a beating he and Alfred were forced to witness, though, the figures in the video taking pleasure in using a cattle prod to shock his sons.And that was just the beginning of the nightmare.
Series: Batfam Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654126
Comments: 5
Kudos: 208
Collections: Tales from the Cave





	Found

**Author's Note:**

> Batfam Week 2020 Prompt, Day 7: Nightmares
> 
> My apologies for the late posting! This is the sequel/companion piece to “Lost,” which was my entry for the first day. I suggest reading that one first. :)

It started with Damian. Damian, who was walking out of school once his day was finished—there one moment and gone the next. 

(Alfred had been nearly inconsolable when the first video came, showing the harm done to their youngest charge. Guilt overwhelmed him, no matter that it hadn’t been his fault. Damian had gone missing before he’d even reached where Alfred was lined up with the other parents and guardians who were waiting to pick up their students.)

(After Bruce’s world had been shattered and he had regathered himself enough to investigate, he found out who was taken next: Timothy. Timmy, who was stolen when he was grabbing a snack at a cafe after he finished with a meeting. It happened barely fifteen minutes after Damian disappeared and before an alarm was sounded.

From there, Jason went missing, a van pulling up to where he was walking down a sidewalk. He stared inside the open door, surprise morphing to anger. His hand stretched out, his face contorting in sudden worry, and then, Bruce saw from the security camera footage he hacked, Jason sighed and stepped inside.)

Frantically trying to get ahold of his sons to tell them Damian was missing, Tim and Jason not _answering, why weren’t they answering his calls,_ Bruce was on the phone with Dick when he was taken. His son was mid-sentence when he cut off, and Bruce froze. Commissioner Gordon stepped forward, gesturing to Bruce.

“Dick. Dick, talk to me.” He put the phone on speaker for the police officers to hear.

“Bruce. I have to hang up the phone. They’re….”

“They’re?” Bruce questioned when Dick hesitated. “Who are they?”

“They want me to tell you that you will receive your first video in 24 hours.”

“Can you run? Can you get away?”

“I can’t. They....” Muffled speaking was in the background, and Dick continued, “They have pictures of the others. I have to go to keep them safe.”

 _Others._ He knew about Damian. Who else was missing? Jason? Tim?

“Dick,” he whispered, hoping his son would give him something to go on, give him a clue, something, _anything._

“I love you, Dad.” 

The line went dead.

…

True to Dick’s word, Bruce received a video within the day. Harm had already been done to his sons, clear in the developing bruises and bloody faces. It wasn’t a beating he and Alfred were forced to witness, though, the figures in the video taking pleasure in using a cattle prod to _shock_ his _sons._

They tried to banter, the four of them together taking aim at their captors, but when a reluctant scream was torn from Damian, the banter was strained, aimed at comforting each other instead of insulting their tormentors. Before the video cut off, Bruce had been forced to hear each of his sons scream.

The next video came three days later, and his sons looked even worse. It was Jason’s torment he was witness to this time—screams and pleas that cracked and broke as Dick and Tim and Damian tried desperately to calm the young man down. Bruce needed no explanation; he had seen more than his fair share of people suffering from fear toxin. 

The next video was of Tim’s suffering. Jason lay weakly in a corner while Damian and Dick tried to calm his third son down.

Then it was Damian, who had only Dick to help as Tim and Jason still recovered. 

And then it was Dick’s turn, who had only Jason’s aid. It was willingly given, but Jason had no strength to do anything but wrap his brother in a light hold.

Bruce was going to lose his mind. The police had hit dead end after dead end in their investigation, and Bruce had had very little luck beyond that, even with his considerable resources as Batman. He looped in the Justice League after he could find no more information, but the _one_ person he truly needed the help of, Superman with his super-hearing, was off world and out of contact.

Alfred had a heart attack watching the next video. The whole situation had weighed horribly on him, guilt still pressing down his shoulders over Damian’s kidnapping even though Bruce reassured him over and over again he had no fault. He and Bruce had been dealing with an overwhelming amount of stress and worry and fear, and Alfred was not as young as he used to be. Timmy’s screams filled Bruce’s ears as he saw Alfred clutch his chest and fall to the floor.

He was in an unending nightmare. His sons were being tortured, his father figure was in the hospital, and _he could do nothing to help._ The Justice League, the most powerful entity on the planet, _could do nothing to help._

“They...planned this,” Alfred gasped, hand clutching onto Bruce’s as he settled at the older man’s bedside in the hospital. “They... _planned_ this.”

His meaning was clear. The kidnappings had been meticulous. The van Jason had been kidnapped in was never recovered. Dick had been leaving Wally West’s apartment—which wasn’t even in _Gotham—_ when he’d been taken, entering a parking garage and never resurfacing. Tim had left the cafe, a cup of coffee in his hands, and paused at the mouth of an alley. He’d walked further in, and though there were security cameras at each end of the alley, he was not seen again. 

Their trackers weren’t working. The videos were dropped off at the GCPD by a different homeless person each time. Their recollections of who had given them the video varied from person to person, the criminals wearing obvious disguises that left them with _no leads._

Bruce could not _find his sons,_ and with each video that came, with each time he saw his sons grow weaker and emaciated, with each time he saw their _torture_ , he grew closer and closer to joining Alfred in the hospital. His ability to keep any emotional distance, to be Batman in order to continue searching for his children, was getting harder and harder.

They were losing themselves. Dick and Jason and Tim and Damian. They were being broken.

They _were_ broken. He knew it when he heard Damian scream uncontrollably as he was hurt. When Jason snapped, screaming and cursing, and tried to break out of the restraints, blinded to the additional pain as both of his shoulders dislocated. When Timmy pulled into himself and didn’t acknowledge anyone or anything. When Dick stopped talking.

Bruce collapsed in front of his desk when he first heard Dick’s guttural grunt and wordless croon as he scooped Damian into his arms. His sons. _His_ _sons._

Alone in the empty cave but for the bats, Bruce tilted his head back and _screamed._

_…_

Dick held out his arms to block their captors’ access to his brothers, face twisted in a dark glare. How he still had the ability to stand against them, Bruce didn’t know, but his heart filled with pride and sorrow. Behind him, Jason had one arm wrapped around Tim and the other around Damian, the three of them entwined in a way that would shift and let Dick back into the fold as soon as they were alone again. 

A yelp drew his attention back to Dick, who had been grabbed by two men and pulled away from the others. Jason’s arms tightened around his brothers, but the captors were seemingly satisfied with their one victim. Body drooping heavily in the chair behind his desk, Bruce closed his eyes when they started to have their _fun_ with his oldest. Their laughter as his son cried out condemned them for the monsters they were. How dare they? _How dare they?!_

An alert popped up on his monitor from the Justice League, and he immediately accessed the link. Wonder Woman’s face filled the screen, a fierce look on her face. 

“Superman’s on his way back. ETA three hours.”

Bruce straightened, determination filling him. “Put out the alert to the rest of the league. See if there’s anyone who can provide backup. I’m on my way.”

 _I’m coming,_ he promised the broken children he loved. _Hang on, please hang on. I’m coming._

…

Bruce’s eyes turned from one tortured son to another as he bent over the still form of his oldest, his first, that was cradled in his arms. The iron-clad control he had over his emotions was non-existent. After months of searching for his sons, after watching video after video of the abuse they had suffered, after _seeing them_ …. 

He ducked his head down to press his lips to Dick’s forehead. One shaking hand reached out to brush away the tears that fell from his eyes onto Dick’s face. Covered in bruises and dirt and blood, it was no less beautiful and precious to him. Damian made another noise, and Bruce lifted his eyes again to see the boy blinking heavily, nearly unconscious once more, but still looking at Dick; still whimpering a broken, unrecognizable sound for his brother.

The sob ripped from Bruce without any warning. He pulled Dick closer to his chest and stood, staggering over to the others. To his sons. Superman cradled Damian; Wonder Woman, Jason; the Flash, Tim. He stopped close enough for Damian to touch Dick, if the boy had had the strength to do so. As it was, his tiny hand could only twitch—his proud, strong son too weak to even move—and another sob tore out of Bruce. 

Superman gently lifted the boy’s hand and placed it on Dick’s arm. The change was immediate. Damian’s whole body relaxed when he finally made contact with Dick, though he quickly lost his fight to stay awake. And Dick, deeply unconscious from the sedative they’d been forced to use on him, sighed and settled even deeper in Bruce’s arms.

The other heroes who had accompanied them on this rescue mission laid waste to the rest of the compound, taking relish in delivering justice on the monsters who had stolen Bruce’s sons. Those who had not come with waited at the Watchtower, prepared to offer what medical aid they could. There were more than fifty members of the JL who had offered their services, and the show of support gave him hope he and his sons would not be alone as they recovered. 

It was a recovery that would take _years,_ a fact that shook Bruce to his core _._ His children would never be the same. But for how broken he and his sons were by what had been done to them, he had no doubt they _would_ recover.

Bruce and the rest of their extended family of vigilantes and superheroes would make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all of your kind words, kudos, and bookmarks on these entries. I had a blast participating in this week of prompts and reading the other submissions!


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